


Try to Remember

by shy_violet_soul



Series: Life is Good (for you) [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Graphic descriptions of injury
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-23
Updated: 2019-01-23
Packaged: 2019-10-15 03:23:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,755
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17521061
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shy_violet_soul/pseuds/shy_violet_soul
Summary: A forgotten memory surfaces and breaks Rae’s heart.  How will the boys, with their own heartbroken history, help her heal?Warnings: Graphic descriptions of injuries/fatal injuries; grief; parent death; depression; angsty fluffRating: Mature due to descriptions of canon-type goreWord Count: 3,700ish





	Try to Remember

**Author's Note:**

> We all love the funny moments with the brothers. But their sensitivity to someone else’s pain has always broken my heart a little, and I wanted to explore that. This is a companion piece to Life is Good (for you) & Just Desserts. You don’t have to read them to understand this story. This is my OFC Rae’s “origin” story. This is also the first time I’ve posted something with more than one part. I’ll post part 2 by the end of the week.
> 
> A huge, sparkly, fluffy hug to my 2 Tumblr betas @pinknerdpanda and @thesassywallflower. Ladies, you get all the Sam cuddles!

This is a work of fiction based upon characters created and owned by the CW. My work is not to be copied/distributed elsewhere without my written permission.

Playlist for this part: [Sign Your Name](https://youtu.be/dluHzQhLcME) \- Terence Trent D’Arby

 

It started out as a good day.

On their way back from a hunt in eastern Illinois, Rae had squealed with excitement when she stumbled upon a Yelp listing for an ‘80’s themed diner. Located just outside of Olathe, Kansas, they were apparently famous for their retro cuisine and milkshakes. After shamelessly begging Dean to stop, he’d grumbled about wanting to get home until she said the menu’s magic words: Sloppy Joes. So convinced, the group had detoured to the charmingly dubbed ‘Mixtape Medleys Cafe’. Hair band posters plastered on the walls, Guns n Roses and George Harrison blasted from the jukebox, and a menu loaded with nostalgic delights were a welcome break from gas station food.

 Dean was on his third Sloppy Joe sandwich, already rhapsodizing over the ‘Whatchmacalit’ candy bar milkshake he had ordered for dessert. Serious inroads made into his chicken caesar salad, even health-nut Sam had ordered something with actual, real sugar in it - a ‘Vanilla Cow Tale’ milkshake. Her plate of mini bagel pizzas stood empty as Rae laughed, waiting on her ‘Nerds’ milkshake. Another monster defeated, a nice young man saved, the three of them unscathed, and now their bellies were full and faces smiling.

It really had started out as a good day.

People talk about memories hitting them like a tsunami, or a ton of bricks. That’s not how it happened for Rae. It happened slowly. Like a glancing sprinkle of warm rain, barely noticeable. Then, another that spit into her face a bit. A pause, like the moment of calm before the unexpected thunderstorm when it was all blue skies and sunshine just a blink before.

One minute, Rae was laughing with the boys about something. Then, the distinctive drum beat tickled her ear. The reedy keyboard intro snagged her attention, and she glanced towards the jukebox across the diner. One heartbeat, two, and the unleashed memory wiped the smile from her face.

_“Come on, honey, it’s our song!” her dad crooned, tugging her mom up from the couch. Rae giggled as her dad started grooving at the end of their outstretched arms, her mom rolling her eyes at his antics._

_“You say that about every slow song, Alex.”_

_Smiling victoriously, Alex pulled her mom into his arms and began rocking side to side, winking at Rae where she sat on the floor with a book in her lap._

_“But this is the one we danced to when I knew I was in love with you, Liz. So, it’s the most important.”  Pecking a kiss to her nose, Alex pulled her closer to his chest and closed his eyes. “‘Sign your name across my heart, I want you to be my baby.’”_

_Shaking her head, Liz smiled fondly at her husband.  “You still can’t sing, sweets.”_

_“‘Sign your name across my heart, I want you to be my lady!’” he yodeled out comically, drawing giggles from both girls. He tucked their entwined hands up into his shoulder and pressed a grinning kiss to her smile. Rae’s little nine year old heart warmed with happiness; her parents loved her and loved each other. She knew she’d remember their song forever._

And now, they were dead.

“…you okay?”

Rae flinched as a hand on her arm pulled her back to the present. She blinked at Sam seated next to her, then over at Dean. Shaking her head a bit to try and clear the fog, Rae drummed up a smile.

“Yeah.  So, you duct-taped the guy to a chair, and started hacking the place with an axe?” Rae tried to pay attention as Sam told the story. But the crooning rock n’ soul voice had opened Pandora’s box, and more memories came pouring in. As the brothers’ chatter filled her ears, the bittersweet warmth of the recollection skirled into something cold. Instead of the cracked vinyl seat beneath her fingers, the raw bite of rope echoed in her wrists. The scent of french fries and sugar melted into smoke and camphor.  And the images…

“Hey, there, honey bun! Here’s that milkshake for you!” The older, pink-haired waitress plunked the tall, frosted glass down in front of her with a flourish before she started teasing Dean about the saucy mess on his face. Lost in her head, Rae didn’t notice the woman collect up empty plates and promise the men their forthcoming desserts.  

Pointing out missed smudges to Dean as his brother wiped up with a napkin, Sam’s gaze moved back to Rae. For someone who had completely geeked out over a ‘Nerds’ candy milkshake, she seemed to be uninterested in the beverage now. She stared blankly at the glass, off in her own world. Dean noticed her preoccupation, too, and reached over to give the glass a little nudge.

“Hey, Rainbow, it’s melting.  Drink up!”

They watched as Rae blinked back to them from wherever she’d been, glancing back and forth between them before swallowing carefully and pushing the milkshake away from her.

“I changed my mind. You can have it.”

Dean’s eyebrows lifted in surprise. “I’ve got crispy-peanutty-caramel goodness headed my way. That’s all yours, make me proud.”

Without a word, Rae slid the glass towards Sam, offering it to him with a bob of her chin.  Sending her a quizzical smile, Sam urged it back to her.

  
“Extra pink ‘Nerds’ on top. Just like you asked. And a cherry!” he crowed, nabbing the goody by the stem and dangling it out to her.  

  
Normally her favorite part of a milkshake or sundae, the sight of the sweetness through the haze of her memories churned her stomach.  

  
The smile she offered was a sad little effort. Now Sam’s eyebrows quirked, halfway to his famed ‘puppy dog’ eyes when Rae merely shook her head before getting to her feet.

  
“I’m gonna run to the ladies room. Be right back.”

  
When she didn’t add on her usual, ‘don’t leave me again’, the brothers looked at each other.

  
“Okay, something’s up. What did you do?” Dean demanded.

  
“Yeah, I know. Wait, what? Why does it have to be me that did something? What did you do?”

  
The elder Winchester scoffed in denial. “I’ve been here the whole time, minding my own business with my ‘Manwich’ perfections.”

  
“She was fine up until the last couple of minutes. What were we talking about?”

  
Dean scowled as he thought. “We were talking about that time we went to the Mystery Spot and I died a lot. She was laughing about you trying to keep me from eating breakfast.”

  
Shaking his head, Sam frowned as he glanced towards the bathrooms. “Something’s not right.” Their waitress, Cyndi, reappeared, her sparkly-blue-shadowed eyes narrowed with concern.

  
“Hey, fellas, that honey bun of yours not happy with her shake?”

  
Flashing her his most charming smile, Dean answered, “actually, she’s not feeling well.  If it’s not too much trouble, could we get our two shakes to go? And the check, if you don’t mind.”

  
Cyndi hurried to take care of things, and two styrofoam to-go cups and the guest check were delivered promptly. As Rae appeared, the men got to their feet to greet her.  

  
“Hey, Rainbow, you ready to blow this popsicle stand?” Dean asked.

  
Quiet, a little pale, Rae saw the concern they failed to hide and valiantly tried to swallow the lump in her throat and smile.

  
“Yeah, let’s get home.” As Robert Palmer began belting out ‘Simply Irresistible’, Dean tucked Rae into his side and sauntered them towards the Impala.  Sam tossed some bills on the table and hurried to follow.

*********************************************************************************

Sam and Dean stole surreptitious glances to the backseat for the next thirty minutes or so. When the silence began to crawl on her skin like ants, Rae forced some life into her voice.

“How about some AC/DC?” The brothers flashed each other a look before Dean thumped Sam in the chest.

“You heard the woman!  Gimme the good stuff, bro, and keep your cake hole shut!”

Sam’s annoyed tones, Dean’s cackling mixed together with the soft clatter of the tapes rummaging together as Sam fished out the designated cassette and popped it in. ‘Back in Black’ promptly blared forth, and as Dean began drumming on the steering wheel, Rae let herself curl up and fade in the lack of attention.

It was taking everything she had to hide it from them.

Seven months, three weeks, and five days. It had been an exercise in blissful hyper-focus to count it out as Baby ate up the miles. Seven months, three weeks, and five days since they’d died. The early days had been about healing. Then, after the brothers shared the truth of their family business with her, the later weeks had been all about reeling. After countless hours of inactivity, Rae’s broken heart had craved industry. Anything to keep her from looking at memories too closely. So, she’d put that Master of Library Science degree to use and become the best damn researcher the Winchesters had ever seen. The familiar rhythms of reading and analysis comforted her while the unfamiliar topics kept her wholly engaged. Engaged meant busy. Busy meant distracted. Distracted meant forgetting.

Forgetting meant she never had to grieve.

That grief, along with all the memories, bitter and sweet both, Rae cobbled into her own personal Pandora’s box. Then, she promptly ignored it, walking her days untroubled. Until one jukebox song cracked it open.

As the Impala rumbled its way into the bunker garage, Rae blinked into the quiet when Dean cut off the engine. Exhaustion suddenly swamped her, her feet heavy as Rae dragged herself out of the car. As she strode towards the stairs, Rae tried to straighten her shoulders.

_They’re watching you. Look normal. You’re fine._

They’d seen her unconscious, peeved, sassy, laughing, focused. But this Rae they’d never seen. Quiet. Not just quiet, but almost…not there. Their sharp eyes missing nothing, the brothers chatted to each other with seeming nonchalance as they followed her down into the library.

“All in all, that wasn’t a bad trip.” Dean dropped his duffel on the table, tagging after Rae into the kitchen.  

“Yeah, it was nice to have a regular milk run. I need to update the records,”Sam mumbled around a yawn.

Rolling his eyes, Dean strolled to the frig and opened it. “C’mon, man.  We scored one for the good guys. It’s Miller time.  Relax,” he urged, pulling out three beers and handing one to Rae.

She took it wordlessly, the glass cold against her fingers. The bunker’s scent of concrete, steel, old books, and gunpowder, so familiar a few days ago, now felt wrong.

 _It should smell like vanilla from Mom’s baking, and Dad’s Old Spice cologne._ Deep voices from the brothers wavered into her thoughts distantly, and an awful lump grew in her throat. _That should be Mom complaining about Dad always leaving his coffee cup on the counter, and Dad yelling from the back porch about someone hiding the grill utensils again._   Like horrid little fiends, the memories leaked out of that carefully cobbled box. They roiled in her head like awful eels. _I miss the creak of Mom rocking in her chair, and Dad snoring under his newspaper on the couch. I miss them holding hands when they walked together._

The lump in her throat grew, burning up into her eyes and blinding her. _I want to hear Dad whistling while he does the dishes. I want to see Mom trying to carry all the clean laundry down the hall in one go, and cussing when she drops the socks. I want…_

“I don’t know why you’re always so down on everyone except Metallica and Zeppelin.  There’s other good music out there, Dean.”

“Whatever, Fall Out Boy. Hey, there was that song at the diner. Dad hated that song, but it was kinda cool.”

“Which one?”

The older brother scratched the back of his neck as he thought. “I think the singer changed his name, but it was Tony. Timothy. Terry?”

Cocking his head to one side, Sam frowned as he thought. “You mean, Terence?”

Dean pointed at his brother. “Yeah!  Terence Trent D’Arby sang it.  How did it go? ‘Sign your name across my heart?’” he mumbled out.

The sob that tore from Rae sounded like it was ripped straight from her soul, yanking their attention to her. The beer bottle slipped from her suddenly limp hand, smashing into foamy shards on the floor. They darted towards her when she wavered, Sam wrapping his arms around her before she collapsed knees-first into the broken bottle at her feet.

“Rae! Rae, what is it?”

“Rainbow, sweetheart, what’s going on?”

Their questions garbled into her ears as if she was underwater. Months of tears torrented through her, opening up an ocean of grief that pulled her under.

The agony left her drowning.

Sam’s heart pounded in his chest as he scooped Rae into his arms when she sagged against him, plopping to the floor and holding her in his lap. Dean knelt in front of them, his own heart chugging with alarm at Rae’s continued sobs.  

“What happened?” Dean carefully brushed messy caramel-colored strands from her face. “Rainbow, talk to me!”

Distantly, Rae felt warm, rough hands on her face, strong arms surrounding her. A fleeting dart of awareness over the Winchesters’ alarm stitched through her, and she tried to speak, but her throat closed up over another choked cry. The urgent calling of her name had her desperately sucking at air as she tried again.

“What? What did you say, Rae?” Ducking his chin to try to look into her face, Sam tried to maneuver her so he and Dean could see her.

“S-saw…”

“It’s okay, Rae, just take a breath. We got you,” Dean tried to soothe her, keeping his voice gentle.

“The s-song-” The men blinked at the coughed out words. Sam’s mind spun as he tried to think.

“You mean, from the diner? The Terrence guy’s song?” Another harsh cry tore from Rae as she weakly nodded her head.

“Theirs.”  

Gently squeezing her a bit, Sam quizzed her again. “Whose song, Rae?”

“M-muh….peh-peh…parents.”

Dean felt his windpipe squeeze as he looked up to meet Sam’s gaze. He saw his own memories in his brother’s eyes - their first meeting with Rae.

_Baby’s doors groaned open before the car fully stopped. The brothers sprinted up the lawn, their boots sliding a bit on the rain-slickened grass. Smoke bit acridly into their faces when Dean kicked in the front door. Maniacal laughter mocked them as they took in the scene. Blood pooled steadily beneath a woman crumpled on the floor. A lone figure tied to a chair writhed as it burned.  His horrid, awful screams clawed at them in jagged edges._

_“Heil!  All heil to the Thule!” cackled the young blond man rocking side to side feverishly. Aaron Bass hadn’t known the identity of the Thule operative wreaking havoc in the northeast, just that he and the golem couldn’t get there. His plea for help had sent the Winchesters hurrying to Bennington, Vermont. As Sam pointed his gun at Christoph Nauhause, the memory of letting him walk away from them once had both guilt and rage churning in their guts. A bullet in his brain silenced the peals of unholy glee, but the man immolating in front of them continued to scream out his agony. Dean knew the man was too far gone to save; frustrated tears and smoke itched in his throat as he aimed and fired. Abruptly, mercifully, the man died as his flesh burned around him._

_Sam leaped over the sofa, crouching down beside the woman. The neat slice across her throat wasn’t deep enough to kill her outright, but the rapid blood loss pouring from the wound would soon enough. As Dean tried to extinguish the flames, Sam tried to comfort the dying woman._

_“Shhh, shhh, just be still,” he whispered, grasping her shoulder to try and subdue her shaking. She didn’t so much as glance at him, her gaze fixed towards the wall. One hand tremored outward, reaching, pointing spasmodically as her breaths wheezed wetly from her. Sam followed the line of her hand, distantly hearing Dean curse behind him._

_A young woman sat tied to another chair against the wall, hidden in the shadows. Blood from numerous, carefully placed stabs and cuts showed shiny in the flickering light from the fire. Tufts of ragged curls sliced from her hair dusted her front and lap. And her eyes, swollen, bruised, shone dark with dazed horror at the scene before her._

_“Sam!  Sam, the fire’s spreading, we gotta go!” Dean suddenly jostled against him, following his gaze to the girl. As one, the brothers strode urgently to her side, knives quickly slicing her free. Sirens began calling in the distance as Dean pulled at a stubborn length of nylon. “Let’s go!”_

_With a violent yank at the last tie, Sam scooped the limp girl into his arms, following Dean as the elder brother kicked flaming furniture to clear a path. In moments, the Impala roared away from the incoming sirens, Dean watching the emergency vehicles brake in front of the scene as he drove them away._

_“Son of a bitch!” he shouted.The impotence and desperation of the failure in the rearview mirror suddenly swamping him as he pounded his hand on the steering wheel. In the backseat, Sam swallowed hard against the lump in his throat, at a loss for words in the moment. A movement from the girl caught his attention, her head lolling back as she stared vacantly out the window. The whisper, nearly lost to the rumble of the engine, broke his heart._

_“Momma…Dad…”_

In the next heartbeat, she’d sagged into unconsciousness. They’d taken her to their hotel room, the next twenty-four hours a whole different battle. The brothers stitched her up, bandaged her, dosed her. They took it in shifts sitting up with her. Watching. Waiting. Not just for any sign of life. No, after that painful loss, the Winchesters were ready to take on whatever reaper dared to darken their doorstep. They wanted a win - needed it. Loss after loss weighed on the brothers like Atlas’ own burden.  

Reaper, or hellhound, or whatever douchebag deity ruled the roost finally decided they were due a sliver of good luck. No one came knocking for her soul that night. They didn’t have to mourn another loss behind silence, whiskey, or work.

Slowly, over the crawling-by days, bandages and antibiotic cream were swapped out for lore books and the internet. She just seemed to fit, all at once, into a space in them they didn’t know was empty. She seized onto things with a tenacity that rivaled theirs. New resources of research opened before them with that librarian background. Dean even started grinning with pride at how she was coming along with her shooting (not that she was going to be let out of Baby on hunts anytime soon). Rae grew into that surprise space so smoothly and quickly, the brothers almost didn’t notice that she never mourned.

She was mourning now.

The pain squeezed her chest until she couldn’t breathe, her hands cold as she sank deeper into this ocean. Her body pulled at oxygen, and it fueled a sudden, awful rage within her. It geysered up out of her belly and into her head, ripping a shrill scream free.

“Why?! I wanna know why!” When her fists tightened in their shirts till the wrinkles pinched them, the boys didn’t even flinch at the sting. Sam squeezed her tighter as she screamed, eyes closed under the weight of her pain. Dean’s hands stroked her hair, a gentle answer as she thrashed in their arms.

Slowly. Slowly, the clangor caved to their quiet. She sagged spent and hiccuping in their arms.

“I don’t even know where they’re buried. I mean, it’s probably at Park Lawn. Dad’s parents are at Old Bennington, but Mom didn’t like it there. She didn’t want people tromping over her grave trying to find Robert Frost.”

 “She didn’t like Robert Frost?” Sam asked quietly.

 A sad, sorry chuckle croaked from Rae.

“She hated birch trees. Had one in our backyard that kept getting fungus. She held a grudge on the man for making the damn trees so popular.”

Dean dragged his fingers softly through her hair, squeezing her knee with his free hand.

“She held a grudge on a dead guy for a poem about a tree?”

“Yup.” Her chin quivered back another sob. “Daddy had me researching arborists to try and save it for her again.” She shrugged her shoulders, a loose, weary move as she swallowed the stickiness in her throat. “And now they’re gone. Me, too, I guess.”

Sam felt his heart pounding on the lump in his throat as he let himself hug Rae the teensiest bit closer against his chest. Let his chin rub against her hair just a breath.

“You’re not gone, Rae. I know - I know it’s hard. Just try to remember that you’re here. And we’re here.”

The message hung loud and clear in the quiet, their comfort an anchor in the torrent that still tugged at her. For whatever reason, her life had been spared. Purpose still existed for her. Friendship, camaraderie still surrounded her.

If Dean’s gaze urged his brother to voice anything softer, warmer than friendship, Sam’s bitch face shot him down as Rae tiredly rubbed her eyes.

“Hey, Rainbow. Why don’t you go take a hot shower? I’ll make you some hot chocolate.”

Her eyes still dim, she tried to smile for Dean.

“My hot chocolate or Dean hot chocolate?”

Easing back on his heels, Dean took her hand as he and Sam both helped her up.

“There is nothing wrong with a shot of rum in hot chocolate. Delicious and nutritious!” he proclaimed. His words had the desired effect as a bigger smile tugged at her features.

“Can’t argue with that.”

Sheepish eyes ducked away from their gazes as Rae squeezed their hands and headed for the hall. A moment later, they heard her bedroom door shut. They stared at each other, the heaviness of the scene still playing on them.

“We’ve gotta tell her, Sam.”

“I know.”


End file.
